Leaving the boys at homeDay one(her)

It’s (him) who usually talks about poop. But…

In the back seat of a black four door, to which I don’t know the make and model of, is where I spent my day. The mundane sound of the tires rolling over the cracked and uneven pavement was almost soothing and my eyes were heavy. Missy moo was with me in the car where myself and three other adults traveled to Lake City. After nine hours on the road my little princess had long ago been fed up with the restraints of her car seat. The patience and tolerance of an uncomfortable seven month old was abounding.

I had not been able to nurse missy moo during the trip, so my discomfort was growing. I kept a constant eye on the front of my shirt because the last thing I wanted was the awkwardness of lactation soaking through my garments.

Twenty minutes from our destination I could tell that we would need to pull over soon; a certain “princess” was working on a little somthin in her britches. We made our stop at a rest area and lifting her out of the seat revealed quite the blow out (and I’m not talking about tires). I’m talking the kind that if we were at home I would have marched her straight to the tub and hosed her down. But we weren’t at home. And there was no tub. I had to strip her down, bathe her and rinse her clothes as best I could in the rest stop bathroom, which was definitely not equipped for the kind of mess I was dealing with (there weren’t even any paper towels). As if that weren’t bad enough, I also had to clean the car seat out as best I could (using wipes) and then lay a blanket in it so that baby girl could sit saftly for the remainder of the drive. Good times for sure.

We had among us a younger single guy who decided he’d start keeping a mental list of all the reasons not to have children; poop in the car was at the top. Glad my princess and I could provide that insight.

I wonder how things are going for the boys…